


The Chamber of Memories

by Deevi0us



Series: HP13 [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25512331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deevi0us/pseuds/Deevi0us
Summary: Harry Potter can't seem to get a break. Its a good thing that he enjoys the excitement. Having the unwanted attention of two ghosts all in the midst of something attacking the students of Hogwarts promises to make Harry's year exciting. Maybe too exciting to bear.Intended to be OOC, basically a reimagining of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.
Series: HP13 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1846339
Kudos: 1





	1. The Haunting

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Harry Potter or anything like that.

Harry Potter was lonely and unfortunately not alone. Summer had been long, far too long, which was odd because until the previous year Harry had always enjoyed the length of summer. No longer. Since stepping into their car after coming off the train, they had been colder than usual, hostile even and something else which had taken Harry sometime to pick up on. Fear, they were afraid of him.

The awkward silences lasted for the first month until Dudley had gotten sick of being forced to talk to his parents and he resorted to talking to Harry, if only out of earshot of his parents. Although Dudley probably had more of a reason to be scared of Harry, considering the pig tail from the year before, but he seemed to have recovered quite well. Apparently they had met up with an old codger after dropping Harry off at the train station and he had waved a stick at Dudley. The next thing he knew they were back at the house with no tail and little memory of how the man looked. Harry wondered who this ‘old codger’ was, but was pretty sure there were plenty of old wizards who could perform amputations of foreign limbs.

Dudley eventually revealed that he was in fact happy with Harry’s return seeing as his mum was an awful cook and he would kill Harry if he ever told her he’d said that. Sure enough Dudley had lost a lot of weight subjectively while Harry was away. He was quickly gaining it back since Harry’s return. Harry had figured out that the only way to alleviate the awful silences that followed him whenever they ate together was to make the food so good that it was worth forgetting any issues they had with Harry. It worked, at least for a while. Then the ghost came and Harry’s life was flushed down the loo.

Uncle Vernon didn’t normally bring clients home, but this one had a son Dudley’s age, making it a good strategy to get their sons to be friends, allowing them to play nice. Dudley of course had to be on his best behaviour and they didn’t want the son befriending Harry instead, so a deal was made and in exchange for Harry staying upstairs and staying quiet they would give him some pocket money and allow him free rein for the remainder of summer. Harry agreed and threw in a cake for good measure.

Being confined to his room Harry had taken the opportunity to attempt some homework. Armed with a pen and paper he had started writing an obtuse essay on why performance enhancing potions should or shouldn’t be illegal in relation to the difficulty of making the potion. It was only after making his way through three pages of writing before he noticed that the previous pages had all turned blank. Examining his pen and the paper he eventually realised it was something to do with magic and gave up. He would need to ask Hermione about this. This was probably why they made them use quills and parchment, none of which he had at the moment.

Lying down on his bed and feeling lonely Harry recalled that neither Hermione nor Ron had replied to his letters. He wasn’t quite sure if it was because he hadn’t mastered using Hedwig as a familiar or because they hadn’t wanted to write. He hoped for the former and dreaded the latter.

He could hear unfamiliar voices in the house, speaking jovially and reminding Harry of the companionship that he lacked. It irked him but didn’t do much else, he knew at least that in another month or so he would be going back to Hogwarts and everything would go back to normal. However going back to Hogwarts filled him with dread instead of relief. A full year had passed without Harry being able to do a single act of magic, save for his hands bursting into flame and incinerating an evil teacher. He had at least figured out how he did it, or he at least hoped he had, it was going to be pretty awkward if he needed to get angry every time he needed to transfigure a thimble. At least he was still able to do passive magic otherwise Hedwig would’ve been a nightmare to handle.

A roaring laugh sounded from downstairs, signalling uncle Vernon having told the only joke he thought was funny, unfortunately nobody else found it funny so Vernon was the only one laughing. Although Harry could’ve sworn he heard a pity laugh from Petunia. In other words it sounded like everyone was in high spirits. Besides for Dudley of course who just wanted to be playing video games instead of meeting fancy people.

Vernon’s laugh suddenly cut off as a crash sounded. Harry naturally assumed someone had dropped a glass, that is until the second crash and then the third, followed by a series of loud thumps and a small screech from Petunia. His curiosity piqued, Harry jumped off his bed and made his way downstairs, trying to stay out of sight, but he needn’t have bothered, he could’ve jumped into the living room beating his fists against his chest and roaring without being noticed, the scene was far more interesting.

Shattered glass and china coated the floor, all forms of furniture that wasn’t pinned down were upside down and shoved against the walls and six figures sat screaming all covered in sizeable amounts of the cake Harry had put his heart and soul into making. All of this came second to the writing carved into the wall, taking up the entire side of the living room with the words ‘ _Harry Potter Must Not Return to Hogwarts’._


	2. Crime Doesn't Pay

The letter came at dawn, the instructions were brief but clear although they only made sense to the one reading them.

‘ _He needs your help.  
Retrieval is necessary.  
Tell no one.  
-A’_

An address was scribbled underneath. Fortunately Ron already had an idea as to what needed to be done and he knew just who to speak to.

*

Harry watched his uncle drilling in the bars over his window with a sense of foreboding. Vernon claimed that it was to keep Harry grounded but Harry didn’t believe so. It had never been necessary when grounding Harry on previous occasions. Rather, from the conversations he had overheard earlier in the week it seemed that they were taking the precautions more to keep something out than to keep Harry in. Looking out the window displayed a crowd of confused looking wizards, all scratching their heads and staring out blankly at Harry’s house. They had been there since the incident their confusion palpable since the beginning. The only people more confused than the wizards outside were the Dursleys and they were normally like that.

The lack of letters was starting to become slightly unbearable, what with his being not allowed to leave the house. He had tried calling Hermione’s house a few times but it seemed that he continually got the wrong number or Hermione and her family had ceased to exist because the phone didn’t even ring. Ron claimed to have a phone but also that it didn’t work all the time and that it sometimes changed numbers due to lay lines or something.

What made the experience worse was that even the Dursleys wouldn’t speak to him, most likely due to the ominous warning scratched out on their living room wall. All he was left with was eating, sleeping and reading. Lonely, tired, nervous and bored, Harry found himself struggling to get to sleep at night. So it was no surprise that the sound of a motor running outside his window woke him from his disturbed slumber, although the sounds that came afterwards were much more disturbing.

“Who’re we robbing anyway Ron?”

“Yeah Ron, why are we breaking into a muggle home in the dead of night with a car that’s louder than your snoring?”

“Just shut it and get those bars off, we don’t have much time,” said a familiar voice.

Harry bolted up and out of his bed to fling open his windows. “Ron?” he exclaimed in a shouted whisper.

Three red haired heads perked up to look at Harry. “Evening Harry,” greeted either Fred or George causally. “Nice weather we’re having.”

Harry nodded, slightly dumbfounded. “What are you fellas doing here?” he asked when he managed to find his voice.

“Breaking you out,” said the other twin. “Apparently,” he finished, turning to eye Ron meaningfully. “Dear Ronnie neglected to mention why we were coming out here tonight.”

Ron smiled awkwardly. “Surprise. We’re here to get you out Harry. Please don’t ask anything stupid until after we’ve gotten you out.”

Harry glanced back at his room, contemplating escape before sighing and rushing to his bed to pull out his trunk. As the Weasely brothers attempted to remove the bars from his window Harry was shovelling clothing and books into the trunk. A screeching sound made him turn his head in shock, to notice the bars on his window gone and he was finally able to get a clear view of what the Weasely brothers had arrived in. The old Cadillac wasn’t the surprising bit, it was more that it was outside Harry’s window which was on the second floor. Magic. . .or jet propulsion, knowing Ron it could be both.

The Dursleys had definitely woken up, Harry could hear Vernon asking why there was a car outside and what that loud clanging noise had been. He probably only had a few moments before they discovered what was actually occurring. Scribbling furiously on a piece of paper Harry managed to convey a sense of purpose in a letter to his aunt and uncle in a letter which he left on his bed. Dragging his trunk over to the window he started pushing it into the car, wondering when the trunk had become so heavy. With the help of Ron and one of the twins he finally managed to shove the entirety into the floating car without breaking anything. Grabbing Hedwig in her cage he took one last wistful look at what used to be normal life before plunging forward with his eyes straight in front of him and a wild grin on his face.

*

“It is absolutely essential that you stay silent,” Ron said in a hushed tone.

They had parked the car fifty meters away from the house so as not to be heard. It did little good however, seeing as the amount of tripping and swearing that followed the twins through the swampy underbrush that surrounded the Weasely house was enough to wake anybody for miles.

Inching the front door slowly open, Ron took a peek inside and immediately pulled back, letting out a short squawk. Turning to the twins with a terrified expression he mouthed something, then pointed with his thumb to the side. Nodding their understanding the twins moved in the pointed direction, rounding the corner and disappearing from view. Ron waited until a loud knocking sound emanated from the other side of the house. Springing into gear, he shoved the door open, dragging Harry in after him and closing the door silently behind him.

Sure enough the room they entered, appearing to be some variation of a dining room, was empty. Creeping along as quickly and quietly as possible, Harry and Ron made their way to a staircase that didn’t take up space until approached. The stairs didn’t creak but that didn’t make much difference.

Ron’s mother, as Harry remembered her, stood in front of his room, door wide open behind her and her face in a barely concealed rage. Harry ducked his head back before rounding the corner, managing to escape her gaze barely, but Ron was quite clearly caught. “Ronald,” she growled. “What in the eight hells do you think you’re doing?”

Ron squirmed under her furious gaze. “Oh uh, hi mum. Was just going to the bathroom. You know, nothing to worry about.”

Her frown deepened. “You had to get dressed and get the twins out of their bed to go to the bathroom?”

Ron winced visibly. He looked to the twins hiding behind Harry, who were watching Ron as he tried to get himself out of this one. A conversation took place with only eyes widening and heads shaking.

“What are you staring at?” his mother asked, moving forward to stand where Ron had been. The twins attempted to throw a jumper over Harry so as to hide him from their mother’s view. It didn’t work, especially as Harry’s reactions weren’t as good as their own when it came to their mother. They had expected Harry to duck his head down as one twin covered his head while the other pulled him by the legs out of sight. What actually happened was Harry rearing back as Ron’s mother suddenly appeared in his vision. Harry knocked into one twin as he raised the jumper, catching his head in the hood while the other brother pulled at Harry’s legs, sending him toppling. Harry had quite a soft landing, the twins not so much.

Finally managing to wrestle his head out of the hood and escape the two groaning figures that lay beside him, Harry could see that the mother’s anger has abated slightly in what looked to be confusion, horror and surprise.

“Harry Potter?” she muttered to herself.

Harry beamed. “The one and only. Thank you for the Christmas present, it was very thoughtful,” he said sincerely from his position on the floor.

Ron opened his mouth to say something but closed it again as a young redheaded girl came out of a closed door, rubbing her eyes and asking about the noise. She looked at the gathered faces in front of her, her eyes settling groggily on Harry. She rubbed them again, blinked before a dawning horror settled on her face. She let out a high pitched squeal which was followed by her rushing back to her room and slamming the door.

“Alright, alright. I’m up,” came a voice from higher up the stairs. A man that Harry didn’t know stumbled down the stairs, half dressed and pulling on a sock. “Really there was no need for the screaming. I can wake up if I want to.” He stopped as he took in the twins standing up dazedly and his wife’s furious face. “Oh, Harry,” he said in a casual greeting. “Good morning. What brings you here?”

“Uh,” Harry stammered.

Ron seemed to realize there wouldn’t be any way to explain this that didn’t get him in trouble. “Harry was in trouble. He sent me an owl that his rents had locked him in his house and weren’t letting him out. So I went to get him,” he said smoothly, the lie coming easily.

Harry nodded. “Yeah, sorry Mrs. Weasely. I didn’t actually think Ron would come get me, but I am very grateful.”

Ron’s mother’s face changed expression several times in the matter of a few seconds. It seemed she was battling with the desire to punish Ron or reward him. Ron’s father came to save them, he was probably still quite confused about the goings on at the moment as he thought it was the morning while it was still very dark outside. “I think it would be a good idea to discuss last night’s events over a nice breakfast, don’t you think so deary?” he said, pecking his wife on the cheek before stumbling downstairs. They watched him go, the twins shrugging and following. Finally as they passed out of sight, Mrs. Weasely let out a frustrated groan and rushed after them, leaving Harry and Ron alone.

“Sorry you had to see that,” Ron said shaking his head. “They get a bit funny sometimes.”

Harry turned to Ron, grinning widely. “That was brilliant. Does that happen all the time?” he asked eagerly.

Ron frowned and looked at Harry strangely. “No, not often. Too often mind you. It’s normally worse than that though.”

“Must be nice,” Harry said observing the house’s dimensions dreamily. “I wish I lived here.”

Ron smirked slightly. “You won’t be saying that by the end of the summer,” he warned.

Harry smirked back. “Is that a challenge?”

Ron shrugged. “I wouldn’t dare to challenge you to do anything,” he said before heading downstairs, turning back once to look at Harry who was still staring up at the ceiling. “Coming?” Ron called.

Harry’s eyes lowered to Ron, nodding, the eager smile still plastered on his face. “Yeah, just gimme a minute.”

*

Grounding wizard kids may as well be impossible, Harry supposed that was why Ron just had a list of chores which prevented him from going more than a few yards from the house without neglecting any of them. It seemed, from Harry’s understanding that this was an inevitable occurrence of the summer vacation, with the difference being that normally the twins had it much worse than Ron; not this year though. Ron had woken the twins in the middle off the night, Ron had driven the car flying over muggle homes where anyone could have looked up and seen him, Ron had broken into a muggle home and kidnapped their foster son. After pointing out that he was lucky he didn’t have to spend the summer in muggle jail Ron had taken the punishments well, the only reason his not being absolutely swamped with work being that his parents didn’t want Harry to be bored all day, which was odd seeing as he had plenty to do when chores were about. He in fact insisted that he do chores, having seen that they looked more fun than any computer game Dudley liked playing. It was a funny and ironic thing, Ron made Harry act like he was doing nothing whenever his mother came past because if she saw Harry helping Ron she would get furious at Ron for having conscripted his friend and their guest into slave labour.

Chores in a magic household could sometimes be very similar to a normal household as Harry was learning to his dismay. Most magic that was easy tended to be temporary and short of a blood ritual it was difficult to make anything last, especially a house and anything used on the daily. Which is why they were made, at most, with enchanted tools, but never magically. Most houses, if they had been passed down in the family, happened to be made of special wood designed to withstand most magic so as to make sure of no rival family attacking their house. Of course it made the matter of cleaning such a house an arduous task. When Harry had suggested enchanting the brooms to do all the cleaning Ron looked at him as if he had gone insane, stating that it would take more effort than just doing the work themselves.

Harry had wrinkled his nose at that, in deep thought. While scrubbing at the windows on the first day of the job. “What about the Malfoys?” he asked finally.

Ron raised an eyebrow from his position on the floor where he scrubbed the hard wood of the floor. “What about them?”

“Draco’s always telling people he lives in a giant manor and that he’s an only child, so how does his house get cleaned?” Harry asked.

Ron shrugged. “Hires muggle workers I expect, probably wipes their memory after they leave. Not very ethical but it gets the job done. Wouldn’t even have to pay them if he was a right bastard. . .which he is.”

Harry gawked at him. “Malfoy’s dad can wipe memories?” he asked incredulously.

Ron nodded. “I expect anyone can. Dangerous though, you can land up in Azkaban if you don’t do it right.” Ron sat up with a thoughtful look on his face. “My dad actually just raided his house, maybe we can ask him.”

Harry nodded. “Maybe later.” Silence grew between them. An awkward silence for once. Both Harry and Ron knew that Ron had lied to his mother, Harry had never written to him about his lockdown situation and Ron’s response had been almost too immediate. He wanted to ask about it but Ron clearly didn’t want to talk about it and Harry knew that if he pushed Ron he would just find a way to wriggle out of it. But they had been speaking and it was the perfect time to push for information. “Have you spoken to Hermione at all?” Harry asked instead.

“Once. Had to fly out for five minutes to the south to use a payphone. I would’ve used an owl but she was worried about what her parents would think,” Ron said.

“Did she say anything about me?” Harry asked casually.

Ron nodded absentmindedly. “She did actually. She said your phone lines must have been down because it just went to voicemail whenever she called.”

The brush in Harry’s hand slipped out, he no longer had the strength to hold it up. His shoulders slumped and he shivered. “Why didn’t you reply to any of my letters over the summer?” Harry asked trying to keep the calm in his voice.

Ron shrugged, clearly not noticing the tone in Harry’s voice. “I could ask you the same. Why didn’t you reply to any of my letters? Were you locked up like that the whole time?”

Harry slumped, his face paling. “I only got locked up a day before you came,” he said, a horrid realization dawning on his face. “I didn’t get a single letter from you or Hermione and the phone was working fine.”

Finally noticing Harry’s sickly state, Ron put his brush down, turning to his friend with a worried expression. “Maybe Hermione just got the number wrong,’ he suggested.

Harry shook his head. “Hermione doesn’t get phone numbers wrong, she doesn’t get anything wrong.”

Ron looked around him checking for any eavesdroppers before asking in an undertone, “Do you think it’s him?”

“Voldemort?”

Ron winced. “Yeah.”

Harry shrugged, still looking like he wanted to be sick. “Maybe, I don’t know.”

Ron forced his face to stay calm. “It’s just a bunch of letters right? Maybe there’s another explanation.”

Harry shook his head. “It wasn’t just the letters. I didn’t tell you earlier but there was something strange happening at my aunt and uncle’s place. . .”

The door slammed open, making both of them jump in fright as Ron’s brother, Percy, walked in, holding four envelopes similar to those that had almost killed Harry the previous summer in the one hand and another more flowery letter in the other. Upon seeing them he startled and hid the flowery letter behind his back, scowling at them.

Ron scowled back while Harry just looked confused and got back to work, pretending that their conversation hadn’t happened.


	3. Sign My Chest

It was good to be back in Diagon Alley, a sense of pleasant nostalgia rushing over Harry as he found himself stepping out of the Leaky Cauldron’s upstairs fireplace, down to the pantry and through the brick wall that concealed the world of wizards hiding in the middle of London. The smells and colours assaulted his senses, giving him the full experience of what he’d been missing while in the world of muggles. He wondered vaguely if Gringotts had beefed up its security after the break in a year previously.

Joined by the Weaselys, their mission was to find all their school supplies, for preferably the lowest price possible. They had been considering getting some newer robes, but after seeing the book list it looked like they would mostly be getting second hand supplies.

“Who in the bloody hell does he think he is?” Ron asked while staring at the extensive booklist and noticing that the vast majority of the books were by the same author, also their new Defence teacher, namely Gilderoy Lockhart. “How on earth is his Autobiography supposed to teach us about defending ourselves?”

“Maybe he had an exciting life,” Harry said. He was also bothered by the number of books he was required to buy with titles that didn’t lead him to believe they would be teaching him Defence. “Is Hermione going to meet us?” he asked, changing the subject before they got onto the topic of how Harry’s magic was faring. It wasn’t something he wanted to talk about just then.

Ron shrugged. “That girl is fickle. I can never tell what she intends to do.”

Harry raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, she’s coming,” Ron sighed. “If she can stop trying to be so clever for ten minutes,” he muttered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry asked, a smirk playing on his face.

Ron groaned. “She told me that she intends to bring her parents with. Which means she needs to find a way to get them around the wards. I suspect she’s either going to find some back entrance or she’s going to fly them in.”

Harry grinned then. “Sounds like Hermione.”

“She used to be such a nice quiet girl. You’re a bad influence on her,” Ron said.

“I like to think that the two of you have been a great influence on me,” said a familiar voice after two hands were slammed down on both Ron’s and Harry’s shoulders, making both of them jump. “For the record, the goblins in Gringotts agreed to smuggle my parents in for a commission. They think muggle money is ingenious and will do anything for it.”

Both Ron and Harry turned to look at the speaker, knowing exactly what they were going to find. “Hermione,” Ron said, forcing a grin. “How long have you been standing behind us?”

She smiled widely. Pulling Ron into a hug and then Harry, both of them visibly uncomfortable with the contact. “You really don’t want to know,” she said.

Ron nodded. “Fair enough.”

“Hey,” Harry said, waving to her awkwardly. “Missed you,” he managed.

When her eyes settled on Harry her grin was replaced with a frown of concern. “Are you alright Harry? Ron was telling me that you hadn’t been replying to a single one of his owls. Also I think your phone lines are down.”

Ron and Harry looked at each other, a disturbed frown appearing on both of their brows. Harry hadn’t told Ron about the cause for his lockdown yet. “Let’s go with that for now,” Harry said. “Phone lines, yeah.”

Hermione arched an eyebrow but Ron draped his arm around her shoulder, pulling Harry with them as he forced them into a stumbling march. “Talk about it later Hermione, you never know who could be listening,” he whispered, eyeing the walls suspiciously. “In Diagon Alley the walls have ears, sometimes literally.”

*

“There’s no question about it, he’s a prat,” Ron said, staring at the man who would be their defence teacher. “Do you think his hair could be fake?” he mumbled to Harry.

Harry shrugged, still surprised that they had managed to arrive on the day of the book signing. “Real or no, there’s nothing stuck on the back of his head,” he said, referencing the horror from a few months earlier that still haunted his dreams. “Still there could be something we’re not seeing. What do you think Hermione?” Harry asked.

Turning to Hermione they saw that she had a dazed expression on her face as she stared at their teacher to be, her lips moving in silent prayer. Noticing the two boys looking at her she closed her mouth and blushed. “Sorry Harry, what did you say?”

“I was just wondering if you thought there was anything strange about our new teacher?” he asked, nodding at Lockhart.

“No,” Hermione squeaked. “Nothing wrong with him. Nothing at all.”

Harry looked at Ron who sent a shrug back. Looking around it seemed that every other female in the bookstore looked on Lockhart with the same dazed expression as Hermione had been doing. Gilderoy Lockhart, Harry recalled, was famous for his defeat of several strange creatures, was the youngest wizard to be considered for the office of head curse breaker without any formal training and finally, winner of Witch Weekly’s handsomest man alive three years in a row. Harry wondered if Hermione read Witch Weekly, and whether it was as boring as the magazines his aunt liked so much.

“I need to get out of here,” Ron muttered finally, dragging along. Harry was only too happy to go along. Leaving Hermione behind wasn’t very nice but he didn’t think she would miss them. It was as they reached the exit to the bookstore that somebody shouted, halting Harry in his tracks.

“It’s Harry Potter,” the voice shouted. Sending a susurrus of mutterings throughout the bookstore, silencing even Gilderoy Lockhart who looked irked at being interrupted, until his eyes alighted on Harry and he beamed, his perfect smile making Harry think he might go blind with the shine of his teeth. The smile was too perfect, as if it had been rehearsed for hours in front of a mirror. Harry didn’t like him.

“Harry Potter,” Gilderoy Lockhart declared in a sing song voice. “What an honour. Ladies and Gentlemen, the boy who lived has no doubt come to purchase his books, but little did he realize that he would be leaving with my entire collection, signed by yours truly, which I dispense freely,” he announced.

Harry stared across the bookstore in horror, both at the attention and the announcement. He wondered momentarily if the books would burn well.

“Get up here my boy,” Lockhart gestured.

Harry slowly moved to the front of the bookstore, feeling the eyes of every customer fall on him, making his scar flare slightly. His scar didn’t like the attention, but he was more used to the pain now after having been exposed to the world for some time. Lockhart pushed a stack of books towards Harry, encouraging him to take them. He was barely able to lift them and his arms hurt from holding them. Lockhart curled his arm around his shoulder and beamed as cameras flashed around them. All in all, not a very good day.

*

It had taken Harry ten minutes to struggle his way out of the throng of reporters who seemed to find his life very interesting all of a sudden. His two friends had tried retrieving him but only succeeded in adding bodies to the crowd pressing around Harry. He thought he might have collapsed from the pain that the attention brought if the Malfoys hadn’t arrived right in the nick of time. Harry didn’t think he’d ever been so happy to see Draco in his life.

He had scurried after Ron, nearly dropping the stack of books as he escaped, the reporters seemed to have found a much more interesting target in Draco’s father, from the snippets Harry could catch the words being exchanged had to do with the ministry, a raid on the Malfoy estate and the questionable lack of dark objects.

Ron explained the story to both he and Hermione once they were in the safety of the street. “My dad works in curse breaking, he received a tip off that the Malfoys were holding a large amount of cursed objects in their house, remnants of the war. So dad asks Fudge for permission and he gives him the go ahead, only Fudge told the Malfoys about the raid beforehand. So now my dad and the rest of the aurors arrive to find a bonfire in one of the rooms and Malfoy’s dad throwing different objects into it. The aurors managed to restrain him before he threw the last object in but it was just an old book with all the pages blank. So Malfoy’s dad claimed he was just doing some spring cleaning. My dad’s been searching those ashes for most of the summer, trying to find something that could get Malfoy’s dad in Azkaban but so far there hasn’t been anything. He’s probably going to get dad fired now,” Ron finished, his face dropping.

Harry frowned. “Who’s Fudge?” he asked.

Hermione turned to Harry, exasperated. “He’s the minister of magic, surely you know that Harry.”

Harry shrugged. “S’funny name. I think I would remember something like that.”

Ron clapped Harry on the back. “Can you blame him Hermione? It took him a few days to get Dumbledore’s name right after I met him.”

Harry frowned further. “What does the minister of magic even do all day?” he asked.

Hermione opened her mouth to give a lecture but stopped and gave a frown of her own. “I’m sure there’s plenty that the minister needs to do,” she said, sounding unsure.

“My dad says he does paperwork all day, says that Fudge has the strongest forearm of a man he’s ever met.”

Harry spluttered, and burst out laughing while Hermione looked at him quizzically. Ron watched Harry with a mischievous grin, not unlike those which the twins generally carried. “Is he alright?” Hermione asked after Harry had started calming down.

“Probably just the after-effects of seeing our new teacher,” Ron said.

Hermione frowned in reply but said nothing.

The rest of the Weasely contingent had finally decided to depart the bookstore figuring that the books weren’t worth it, only Ginny looked crestfallen at having to leave. The entire family was however not present, Arthur was missing, no doubt locked into the shop by the rabid reporters. When he finally did emerge he was locked into a cold halting discussion with Malfoy’s dad, Draco seemed to be dwarfed in the cold malice both men showed to each other. Both noting the family of redheads staring at them, Arthur cleared his throat and took on a more amenable expression. “So did we get what we came for?” he asked his family.

Most of them shook their heads. “We’re going to head down to the second hand place,” Ron said. “If you’re ready,” he finished eyeing the Malfoys.

Arthur eyed Malfoy’s dad and then his son, probably deciding that this wasn’t the time or place for a heated discussion. “Well Lucius, you’ve given me much to think about, perhaps we’ll discuss this tomorrow in a more suitable environment.”

Lucius smiled widely, not showing teeth. “Of course Arthur. I would hate to keep you. But before I forget. . .” He reached into his cloak, pulling out a small black book and handed it to Arthur. “I believe you missed this on your raid, of my home.”

Arthur eyed the book distastefully. “I don’t want this.”

Lucius shrugged lightly. “Keep it anyway. You don’t know when you might need the money.”

Arthur’s eyes flared and he looked like he might throw the book back in Lucius’ face, instead he called, “Ginny. Do you want a diary?” he asked casually.

Ginny who had been mostly silent around Harry, nodded mootly and took the book, placing it into her handbag. Harry wasn’t quite sure, but at that very moment it almost seemed that Lucius Malfoy paled further than his already pale complexion allowed.

A cold silence filtered between the two men, both staring at each other with what looked like hatred in their eyes.

“Arthur,” Molly said, walking up to her husband and placing her hand on his shoulder. “We have to go.”

Arthur blinked. “Right yes of course. See you tomorrow Lucius.”

The smiles were back as if they had never gone. “I suppose you will,” Lucius replied before turning and walking away, pulling Draco along with him.

Arthur watched them go, it was only once they were out of sight that he turned to his family, a peaceful grin on his face. “That was fun, wasn’t it.”

*

Ron would later go on to explain the interaction in great detail while he sat with Harry and Hermione as they got some snacks. Ginny and Molly had gone to get some clothes fitted for Ginny, her being the only girl in a long line of boys didn’t allow her to get the hand me downs of her brothers; Fred and George had gone to the nearest joke store with their father who had mainly gone to make sure they didn’t kill anyone and Percy had disappeared after seeing a few of his friends.

“So dad and Malfoy’s dad are basically in the same position in the ministry, the thing is that Malfoy’s dad got so high in the ministry because he has a lot of money, whereas dad got there with hard work, so they’re constantly fighting for each other’s position, only Fudge is friends with Malfoy’s dad from back when they were in school together so dad has to tread lightly around him.”

“What was that whole thing with the book though?” Harry asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Hermione chimed in. “Draco’s father was threatening to get him fired.”

Harry stared at her oddly. “How did you get that?” He looked at Ron for support but Ron was nodding along with her.

“It wasn’t exactly obvious, Hermione’s just observant. But that is what it would seem. Dad gave the book to Ginny to show that he wasn’t scared of Malfoy’s dad,” Ron confirmed.

Harry stared at the two of them, absolutely baffled. “They just looked like they were angry at each other, how did you two figure any of that out?”

Ron shrugged. “Bill told me about most of dad’s work problems. When you know what to look for it’s easier to see.”

“High school,” Hermione said simply in explanation. Harry didn’t want to ask further.

“So, Gilderoy Lockhart,” Harry said, desperately trying to change the subject. “You two think he’s going to make it through the year?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but I hope so,” said Ron. “Last year was far too exciting for my taste.”

“I thought it was fun,” Hermione said.

Ron shook his head. “You didn’t get a concussion.”

“You didn’t kill a man,” Harry countered morosely.

The trio fell into silence after that, eating their food and wondering if they would be lucky enough to survive the coming year. For some reason, none of them had a very optimistic outlook.


	4. Driving in the Wrong Lane

Ron and Harry were running late. The rest of the family had left already save for Arthur who had been trying to wake them for almost two hours. He had finally resorted to using magic and even then they were still groggy and wondered why they were soaked from head to toe. Harry reckoned that the twins had slipped them something the night before to prevent them from making the train.

In his panicked state, Arthur decided that the only way they would be making the train is if they flew, which is why he ended up bringing the car instead of using the fireplace. Harry didn’t exactly see the logic but Ron seemed to think it made sense, mumbling something about congestion while pulling on trousers the wrong way.

When they finally took off there was an hour left until the train left and no doubt, the rest of the family had already arrived at the hidden station. Getting there took ten minutes, finding parking another twenty, thankfully Ron’s father had charmed the car to camouflage to the skyline temporarily. By the time they found themselves rushing into King’s Cross there were only ten minutes until the train left. Arthur rushed ahead of them sinking through the wall that led to platform nine and three quarters, Harry and Ron made a sorry attempt of keeping up, panting as they pushed a trolley each, laden with their trunks and Hedwig’s empty cage, Harry having sent the owl ahead of them.

In the split second before arriving at the wall, Harry felt a chill come over him and immediately had a very bad feeling. His bad feeling was followed by two crashes, two yells and a lot of bystanders staring at two boys that had apparently rammed themselves trolley first into a brick wall while charging at full speed. After a moment however, the eyes of the muggles seemed to glaze over and they found more interesting things to look at, no doubt a part of the enchantments surrounding the entrance, only the entrance hadn’t worked.

Rubbing his side, Ron stumbled over to Harry and helped him up. Harry hadn’t taken the collision well and was still reeling. Ron walked up to the wall and rested his weight against it. Nothing. Harry pulled out his wand and tried to tap the wall. Upon contact of the wand with the wall an invisible hand seemed to carve words into the brickwork, making Ron inhale deeply and Harry pale.

‘Harry Potter will not go to Hogwarts’ were the words spelled out on the wall.

“Uh, Har,” Ron started. “I think now would be a good time to tell me what happened before I picked you up,” he said uneasily.

Harry pointed at the wall and nodded. “That, only worse. More things broken. Lots of noise.”

Ron looked around wearily and moved over to his trunk, picking it up and pushing it back into the trolley, doing the same for Harry. “Come on, we’ve got to go.”

Harry looked at him confused. “Can’t we just wait here until your dad gets back?” he asked.

Ron shook his head. “It’s not safe. We’re sitting ducks out here and he could get us at any time if he wants to. There’s only one place you’ll be safe. . .from him..”

Harry looked exasperated. “Even if this is Voldemort, how are we going to get there anyway?”

Ron shrugged. “We could floo, although it’s easy to monitor the floo system, I suppose we could fly but we would need to get someone to send our trunks after us. Unless. . .” His eyes glinted and he smiled. “Let’s get back to the car, we’ll see from there.”

Moments later Harry found himself annoyed to be flying above a city that he was supposed to be passing underneath. “I still think this is a bad idea,” Harry said, eyeing the city that appeared toy like with the distance. Having never been on an airplane had left Harry quite unprepared for such an experience, more so now that it was Ron driving in his family’s old, broken down car. Not to mention that the camouflage charm was doing its work, effectively making the entire car invisible along with the occupants but also forcing Harry to see the long drop whenever he looked down. Hagrid’s motorcycle had left him prepared enough not to scream though.

Ron, however, was enjoying himself, that is, until the turbulence. It wasn’t turbulence, not really, it was more an unseen force striking the car and making it fly to the side, hurling the two boys across the interior. The ‘turbulence’ occurred again, this time striking from the other side of the car. Harry noticed that he was now able to see the car’s interior properly as Ron no doubt noticed a moment later when he started swearing creatively. The camouflage had stopped working and they were still quite far off from any form of safety.

Ron seemed to make a snap decision and barked at Harry, “Seatbelt.”

Harry didn’t argue, barely hearing the click of the metal locking in before he felt his breakfast go to his mouth as the car plummeted to the ground at a speed that made a rollercoaster feel safe. He looked at Ron for assurance that the falling was on purpose and was encouraged by the lack of emotion on Ron’s face. He was in control then. Nonetheless Harry didn’t want to see what happened next, squeezing his eyes shut. He felt the car pull up slightly and was almost sick when the car hit the ground with a less than satisfying bump which sent Harry’s stomach in the opposite direction it should have been going.

He didn’t open his eyes until he heard Ron let out a long hysterical laugh. He could see that they were driving just a little too fast on a highway, Ron dodging in and out of lanes with a practiced ease. After a long moment Harry joined in on the hysteria, laughing until his guts ached. It was a lucky thing that neither of them had eaten breakfast that morning, otherwise the grey leather interior would have been a very different colour and smell. It seemed they had escaped the invisible force as they were no longer being shunted from side to side. That didn’t stop Ron from driving like his life depended on it.

Ron drove much faster than either Vernon and Petunia had ever done, and while he did so expertly, Harry couldn’t help but feel that there were a couple of close calls. To pass the time Ron tried to teach Harry how to drive, promising to let him make an attempt once they arrived in a less dangerous patch of road. Harry recognized the lesson for what it was, a distraction, and gave into it fully, trying not to think too closely about how close to death they had been just minutes earlier.

Harry drove once they reached an area with less traffic and was surprised to find that he wasn’t nearly as good as he thought he was, thankfully there hadn’t been anyone to see it. Ron would have to think of some excuse for the multitude of feathers stuck in the engine to give to his parents. That was a technicality however as he had no idea how he was going to get the car back. When they arrived at farmlands Ron expressed that it was safe enough to go back to flying seeing as farmers saw flying objects all the time and wouldn’t have any cameras handy to note the oddity. Even then there was Photoshop.

The rest of the ride was mostly uneventful, they found the train easily enough, although Harry managed to spot it through the haze that concealed magic from the normal world much quicker than Ron who was flying entirely at the behest of Harry until he eventually saw it himself. It was one of the few things that made Harry sure that he wasn’t completely useless at magic. Even though he’d never been able to do magic consciously his ability to see marked him as someone with magic and he remained hopeful.

It wasn’t until they neared school that the invisible force struck again, this time from above. The sudden lurching drop made Harry want to be sick and thankful that he was still wearing his seatbelt. The hit left a large dent in the roof of the car, the metal brushing their heads whenever they tilted back slightly. As they continued to fall one side effect of the damage occurred to the two boys. They were falling and for some reason the car wasn’t doing anything to stop the fall.

Ron sprang into action almost immediately, pulling out his wand and pointing it at the various instruments of the car, shouting spell after spell as they plummeted to their deaths. The ground loomed ever closer and what Ron was doing didn’t seem to have any effect, although for some reason the windscreen wipers were working with a concerning earnestness, almost as if they were trying to gather up enough wind resistance to save them. That was ridiculous obviously.

Ron stared at the ground, seemingly lost in thought, for what felt like ages.

Harry looked at the lost expression in his face and wondered if this was how he was going to die, not by Voldemort, but by an invisible force that had managed to disable a car that two fourteen year olds were flying. He could see the headlines now, ‘The boy who lived dies in a car crash’, and the article going into the particulars of how two silly teenagers had stolen a parent’s car to look cool and had died an untimely end. Ron might even survive, what with how he survived that concussion the previous year, but Harry had no such protection.

A small fire rose then in his throat, it was a familiar feeling, an anger so cold yet burning like fire. It coursed through his veins and into his eyes where he was sure they shone with the light. He knew in that moment that he could do anything, he could destroy the car or he could destroy the earth underneath it, he could stop their fall, or better yet, he could fly. He readied himself for the moment of impact, holding onto that fire and waiting to release it.

A shout from beside him told Harry that Ron had a different idea. Ron screamed each word, punctuating them perfectly before jerking his wand up with both hands in what looked like an act of hitting volleyball with intention to lose it. A cracking sound filtered throughout the car, like a firework going off, and the front of the car, which had been headed in a nose dive for the ground, suddenly righted itself, narrowly missing the ground and instead flying back up before settling into a comfortable balance in the centre of a massive tree.

Harry felt the fire leave him in that moment of elation, as if it had never been there before. He turned to Ron to rejoice and noticed that Ron’s expression was downcast. After narrowing his vision, Harry was able to see why. Ron’s wand had snapped in two, the top half dangling by little more than a splinter and revealing the feathery core. Reaching out to his shoulder Harry opened his mouth to say something, to reassure him that it was going to be alright, but didn’t get the chance.

A creaking sound rumbled up underneath the car, like an old shack in the wind. The sound rose in volume to a scale that would have been almost impossible unless it was a rather big shack, then the car moved. Harry panicked, spinning around to see whether it was the invisible force pushing them again, then thought himself stupid for trying to see an invisible force. Nonetheless he needn’t have felt bad about looking back seeing as it wasn’t the invisible force, it was a log almost as big as a car and it was pushing against the car. Harry wondered if it might be a friendly tree that Hogwarts had built in for the purpose of helping people, then thought about it logically and realized that nothing in Hogwarts was friendly, especially not in the forbidden forest. A sudden lurching feeling just confirmed Harry’s pessimism. He wasn’t sure when it happened, but in the blink of an eye the car was doing a back flip, spinning over and over itself before slamming down on the ground right way up and ensuring that Harry wouldn’t be able to sit normally for at least a few weeks. Another sickening lurch and Harry felt himself being flung from the car, his trunk slamming down inches from his face before the car hooted twice and sped off into the forest.

Ron stared off at the car, at his wand and finally at the tree, a dawning sense of horror coming over his face. They were some way into the forbidden forest and night was falling. The train would be arriving soon, but judging from the distance of the castle they still had quite a walk.

Harry gave Ron a weak grin, rubbing his behind as he tried to stand. “That went well,” he said.

Ron grunted and stashed his wand away, standing with much more ease than Harry and apparently unharmed, before pulling up his trunk. “Come on. We’re not out of the woods yet,” he said and trudged forward, towards the castle in the distance.

*

Hermione had her legs folded over, her expression expectant. For a very short moment her stern expression reminded Harry of Ron’s mother. The comparison was thankfully gone moments later as she stood up and embraced both himself and Ron in a hug, then pushing them away a moment later and wrinkling her nose. “You two smell awful. What happened?” she said lightly, but Harry could tell how much worry was behind the question. Both Harry and Ron glanced at each other, their haggard faces mirroring each other before nodding.

“All will be revealed tomorrow,” Ron said tiredly. “Assuming we’re not expelled for damaging the lawn ornament,” he finished grimacing.

Hermione didn’t hesitate to show her displeasure with a deep scowl.

Harry jumped in, trying to salvage the situation. “What Ron is trying to say is that we would like a chance to collect our thoughts before telling the story as if we start we might not be able to stop. Then you’ll force us to tell McGonagall who will then force us to tell the headmaster and following that we’ll be expelled due to being too tired to give a damn,” Harry ranted. “At least I think that’s what he’s trying to say.” He gave a weak smile. “Would love to catch up Hermione but not tonight.”

She nodded, clearly disappointed. “Your sister’s in Gryffindor,” she said to Ron.

Ron grimaced. “Lovely.” Before moving off up into the boy’s dormitories and leaving Harry and Hermione alone.

“He’s had a bad day,” Harry said, wincing at Ron’s reaction. “Broke his wand, lost a car and he just found out that we have double potions tomorrow.”

“He broke his wand?” Hermione asked incredulously. “How?”

“Read all about it in tomorrow’s edition,” Harry said, moving to enter the boys’ dorm. He nodded to Hermione, muttered something about double potions and left Hermione to herself.

Hermione eventually left the common room, leaving it empty, but not for long. A haggard but clean figure emerged from the boys’ dorm with red hair, making his way into a table in the corner of the room near the fire that had a chess board set out ready to play. Taking a seat he faced the air across from him and started. “Boy have I got a story for you.”


	5. Of Werewolves and Pixies

Harry was still bad at magic, there was nothing to it, but for some reason he was doing remarkably well in potions for once. Actually the reason was obvious to him, what was surprising was that he hadn’t accidentally set his potion’s teacher on fire. Professor Snape was once again powering ahead with the insulting remarks, most of them directed at Harry. It had taken Harry a few tries, obviously magic outside of school was forbidden, but he was able to feel it pooling sometimes when he got emotional, it became a reservoir of magic just waiting for him to siphon. It wouldn’t happen often though and not exactly when he wanted it. But professor Snape got him angry and finally after a year of his potions being dismal failures, Harry’s potion’s ability improved.

Unfortunately due to how emotionally detached every other subject was, he didn’t fair too well in anything else. You win some and you lose some, he supposed. Ron was doing his best to be inactive while not blowing up anything and Hermione was so devoted to her work that the classroom could have blown up and she would just carry on working. Harry would have never admitted it but it was good to be back at school. It used to be that school was a place of bullies and false accusations, admittedly things hadn’t changed that much, but having friends, reliable friends, made all the difference. Harry’s time at Hogwarts would have been very different without Ron and Hermione.

As the day passed, Harry felt himself getting back into the rigorous schedule that he had been missing for the entirety of the summer, it was tough to get back into it, but at the same time he hadn’t been able to spend his energy on anything over summer vacation, besides for the event which they would be speaking about that night. Professor McGonagall had already booked them for a detention that night to discuss their missing the train. Ron’s parents had already sent him some colourful letters about having taken the car. Ron was taking his time with telling his parents about what happened to the car, he figured that as long as they didn’t ask he wouldn’t tell them.

Hermione came with them to detention that night, the theory being that teachers wouldn’t refuse a student detention if they asked for it. It wasn’t a very good theory but logic seemed to fly out the window when Hermione wanted something.

Ron took centre stage giving over the information in a way that left out enough information so as to not incriminate themselves while also adding in reasonable excuses for their drastic actions. His lies were as smooth as silk, it made Harry wonder how often he lied to himself and Hermione and whether they would be able to tell. He pushed the thought out of his mind however, Ron wouldn’t lie to him, not about anything important at least. Actually that wasn’t in the least bit true. Ron took to lying like Hermione took to books, it was a part of him. Would Ron really lie to him? It would be wishful thinking to say no, because Ron most likely also lied to himself.

“And then the tree tried to kill us. After that it was just the walk back to school which took a few hours,” Ron finished, leaning back in his chair and putting his hands together as he watched Professor McGonagall take in the information, a frown furrowing her brows.

“I would just like to confirm what you’re telling me,” the professor said slowly. “You were late for the train and were worried you wouldn’t make in on time, so being the responsible students you are you decided to steal your father’s car and fly over muggle countryside while invisible to the naked eye and then the car suddenly stopped working when you arrived within the Hogwarts boundaries,” she said.

Ron nodded seriously. “I think the wards removed the charms that were originally placed on the car, I doubt it would have happened otherwise.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “And where is the car now?”

Ron winced at that. “Somewhere in the forbidden forest.”

Professor McGonagall looked like she wanted to inquire further but instead sighed and rubbed her eyes. “Next time something like this happens Mr. Weasely and Mr. Potter, you should send the school an owl and we will find you a way to get back to school. You’re both lucky to be alive and by all rights shouldn’t be. I’ll be reporting this to the headmaster,” she said sternly, hesitating for a moment before a weak smile appeared on her face, almost a smirk. “I suppose it’s too much to ask for a quiet year?”

Ron and Harry looked at each other, then both looked at Hermione who shrugged before they all broke into uncomfortable grins. “We want it as much as you,” Ron said finally. “Can we uh, go now?”

The professor raised an eyebrow before nodding. All three of them scampered out of the small office, struggling to get out of the door at the same time before managing to shove their way through into the dark, silent classroom. The door slammed behind them, leaving them with little light.

“I’ve got this,” Harry said, pulling out his wand and holding it above his head, shutting his eyes tightly. “Light,” he commanded.

Nothing happened.

“Try Latin,” Hermione suggested, pulling out her own wand.

“Yeah, that might work,” Harry said. “Lumos.” His wand flared slightly, lighting the room before fading almost as quickly as it had come.

Ron rubbed his shoulder. “Sorry mate. On the plus side neither of us are going to be doing much magic this year.”

Harry raised an eyebrow in the darkness, which was perhaps ineffective, although he did suspect Ron may have given himself night-vision. “Speak for yourself. I’m going to be so good at magic by the end of this year,” he said confidently.

Ron shrugged, his face being cast in the glow of Hermione’s now lit wand. “I hope so,” he said. “You’re going to need it.”

Well that wasn’t ominous at all. Ron broke into a mischievous grin, pulling out his wand and starting a spell before both Harry and Hermione subdued him, Harry grabbing his wrist and Hermione with a hand over his mouth. “Are you trying to kill us?” Hermione hissed.

Ron shrugged smiling again. “It was a joke. I wasn’t actually going to do anything.”

Hermione eyed him and his broken wand sceptically before leaving him be. His wand was a piece of work, he had managed to tape it up, but the tape only showed how bad the break actually was, it hadn’t just snapped in half, most of the length was covered in cracks and bits of feather were visible from most angles. Ron’s smile dropped when looking at his wand before putting it away.

“Let’s get to sleep,” Harry said yawning. “Don’t want to be late for charms and I’m. . .” he trailed off, an image suddenly flashing in his mind making him stumble and fall to his knees. There was blood, so much blood and he was. . .hungry?

“Harry? Harry? Are you there? Hello?” Ron said, waving Hermione’s wand in Harry’s face.

Harry blinked and looked up at Ron. “Huh?”

“We lost you there for a moment, I guess you really are tired,” Ron said.

Harry nodded numbly. “Yeah, I guess,” he said, pushing himself up and letting himself be pulled along back to the Gryffindor common room, wondering where the image had come from and whether he was going crazy.

*

When nearly a whole month passed without anything happening, Harry thought it may have been too good to be true. He’d had enough time to get comfortable with riding on a broom again, the cushioning charm on his broom was still working well and he was still good at quidditch, which was a welcome relief to find out. He didn’t think that he could have coped with school as well as he did without being able to fly in his free time.

He was doing well in his lessons, having gotten slightly better at controlling his emotions to cast spells. It became much easier when he realized that he just needed to think about something that made him angry or scared to power a spell. He even managed to learn and practice a few of the underground spells that their year used to prank each other, much to the displeasure of Ron and Hermione. Of course the spells didn’t always work and even when they did they didn’t necessarily work fully, but it was a start. It gave him confidence and it was a whole load lot better than the year before.

Even with all of this, Harry was worried. Halloween was coming up, it was the day that everything started and Ron’s words about Halloween from the previous year continually popped into his head as the day got closer. It was a time of magic, of the undoing and creating of many things. A time when someone could summon a troll past the extremely strong wards of the school and let it wreak havoc, nearly killing one of the students, all to serve as a distraction for a higher purpose. Halloween had never scared Harry quite as much as Halloween in Hogwarts did.

Ron claimed that Harry was being paranoid while Hermione didn’t comment as she was most likely still traumatized from the previous Halloween. Ron did agree however that if something crazy was going to happen that year it would be revealed, if only slightly on Hallows Eve. That only put Harry more on edge. If there was one thing to be happy about, it was that the fear was a great motivator, and when McGonagall had assigned them the task of changing a rat into a crystal goblet, he was almost successful.

Then came the day before Hallows Eve and everything seemed to go wrong. Professor Lockhart was by no means a good teacher. From the beginning of the term they were being forced to memorize his book on how he’d apparently ended a werewolf’s curse. While that should have been an interesting topic the book was mostly fluff and it took Harry nearly a month of hearing their teacher read it out in every lesson before realizing it contained little, to no practical lessons, save for the ability to woo the local fishmonger’s daughter. Then there were the parts that their teacher would start reading, blush heavily and declare they would be skipping the next ten or so pages. Hermione being the avid reader that she was, read the pages and blushed beetroot red every time she saw the teacher afterwards. When asked about it she would shriek suddenly and stomp away muttering inanities under her breath, leaving her two friends with confused expressions.

In other words the entire class had given up on learning anything useful from Professor Lockhart, especially after any exams assigned were solely testing their ability to remember useless information contained within his book. It wouldn’t have been so bad if there hadn’t been another nine books that they would be going through in much the same way.

On the day before Hallows Eve, Lockhart changed up the schedule for no good reason, getting Hagrid to bring in a large cage of small blue winged creatures that were throwing themselves against their prison in an attempt to get free. What was a greater surprise was that Hagrid left immediately afterwards as if something was chasing him. All of this gave Harry an ominous feeling that something was going to happen and he wouldn’t like it.

“Good morning my bright students,” he said in his sing song voice that had the girls swooning and the boys eyeing him suspiciously. “Tonight is the Hallows Eve feast and as such you will have no homework today,” he said prompting a silent cheer. “However we wouldn’t want your brilliant minds to be thinking mundane thoughts all night and so tomorrow we will be having a test. This will count for your year mark, so try not to drink too much pumpkin juice tonight,” he chuckled lightly at his own joke, not realizing that nobody else found this funny. That was more because of the announcement of the test which was much worse than homework, for the reason being that they hadn’t learned anything yet that term. The only person in class that didn’t seem daunted by the sudden test was Hermione and she definitely didn’t seem to find the joke funny.

Professor Lockhart’s laughter sputtered out after a moment as he began to notice the hateful glares coming from his students. “But not to fret,” he continued. “Today I have a fun lesson planned.” He walked over to the cage and rapped on it with a finger, pulling it away just before one of the caged creatures managed to grab it. “Pixies. Nasty little creatures, but mostly harmless,” he explained. “Today you’re going to learn how to incapacitate small but quick creatures. Although not very useful for subduing big creatures it is the stepping stone to greater things. Lesser spells would only slow the creatures and greater spells would kill them and we don’t want to do that,” his face twisted into a grim smirk. “Now repeat after me.” He demonstrated the wand movement to the entire class while announcing a word that sounded like old French and had the class repeat the word and movement.

For once it seemed that everyone was paying attention. They had never learned any spells in first year Defence as it had mostly been about how to avoid danger and besides for the trick jinxes going around the common room which were most likely from elder years, this was their first combat oriented spell. Even Ron wasn’t messing around as he would have normally been, but the frown on his face was sending Harry different messages. It was the face Ron gave Harry when he spoke about muggle concepts that he hadn’t been exposed to. In other words it was a face of pure bewilderment.

When Lockhart was satisfied he nodded and stepped back to align himself with the cage. “Very good class. I think you’re all ready to handle the real thing. Now observe.” He carefully approached the cage and opened the hatch enough for one pixie to get out before shutting it again. Then, aiming his wand at the creature, he said the incantation and performed the hand movement stiffly. A small blue light shot from his wand, engulfing the angry pixie at which point it dropped like a stone, hitting the floor with a soft thud. Turning back to the class Lockhart beamed. “Easy as pumpkin pie. Who would like to go next. Miss Granger perhaps?”

Hermione opened her mouth, most likely to volunteer herself, but was cut off by the most unexpected of voices.

“Um, S. . .Sir,” stammered Neville nervously. The entire class turned to him, mostly in surprise. He wasn’t one to draw attention to himself.

“Yes Longbottom, would you like to try?” Lockhart asked.

Neville shook his head hurriedly, paling at the thought. “N. . .No sir, I was j. . .just wondering what happened to the pixie?”

Lockhart turned his head to look at the place where the pixie had fallen and stiffened after seeing that it was not in fact there. Slowly turning his head back he managed to observe the final touches of the pixie opening the cage from the outside and releasing all of its brethren from their imprisonment. For a moment, save for the fluttering of the pixies’ wings there was an absolute horrified silence. A high pitched keening sound seemed to emanate from Lockhart’s mouth and then all hell broke loose.

The pixies streamed out of the cage laughing like hyenas that had just inhaled helium as they spread around the room. Lockhart immediately took action, casting the spell repeatedly at every pixie that flew near him, but as demonstrated before his spells weren’t having any lasting effect, and compared to the first demonstration the spells were weakening to the point that the pixies were barely slowed by the spell.

Having seen the ineffectiveness of the spell the rest of the class began to panic, the panicking only served to excite the pixies which started attacking anything with a fleshy surface. Say what you will about pixies but they can bite. Most of the girls had started screaming in terror, only serving to draw attention to themselves.

The rest of the class attempted to make a getaway, abandoning their bags and books for the door. Harry had thrown himself under a desk alongside Neville who was shivering and curled into a ball, muttering something about his grandma. He could make out Ron under a different desk staring at his own broken wand. No help was coming from there.

Like an action hero, Hermione ran across the classroom, producing weak but quickened versions of the original spell, slowing the onslaught of the pixies as she made her way across the classroom, heading straight for Harry. Ducking under the desk with him she wiped some sweat from her brow and eyed Neville pityingly for a few seconds before turning to Harry. “I need you to get everyone out. You and Ron can stay, but I can’t solve this while everyone else is here,” she commanded.

Harry eyed her suspiciously. “Why not just let Lockhart handle it?”

She winced. “He’s emotionally compromised.” She pointed out to the classroom where Lockhart had managed to pull a disappearing act. He would probably show up the next day and claim it was an exercise in survival or something like that but until then it was purely an embarrassment for him.

Harry sighed. “Fine, just give me a moment. Need to get angry.”

Hermione nodded. “Just don’t kill any of them. Hagrid wouldn’t like that so much.”

Harry ignored her, instead focusing on Neville and wondering what his relatives had done to make him such a nervous wreck. Neville had told them almost a year earlier that his general extended family had consistently taken to making attempts on his life all for the purpose of uncovering his latent magical talent. He had grown up paranoid and coming from one of the noble wizarding families without any siblings he had grown up alone. He reminded Harry of himself if Dudley had actually been trying to kill him. Harry felt his fists clench and the anger manifest in his stomach and he knew he was ready. He nodded to Hermione and moved over to Neville. “Cover me,” he said, before pulling Neville out with him and making a mad dash to the door.

Blue lights flew overhead, knocking back a few pixies in their flight but not doing more than that. Drawing his wand mid run, Harry screamed the first spell to come to mind and squinted. Bright white light shone from his wand, making all the pixies in his general vicinity hiss and cease in whatever they were doing. He bumped into the door, Neville bumping into him, both of them blinded from Harry’s extreme spell. Harry felt for the door handle, finding it quickly and wrenching it open to bodily shove Neville through before slamming it after him. Letting out a sigh of relief, he saw that the rest of the class had made it out already.

Hermione was already standing and dusting herself off, walking methodically into the middle of the classroom and holding her wand up. Rotating it counter clockwise she chanted a sentence, her voice took on another sound, almost like she was harmonizing herself. She rotated it four times then held it steady. A ripple emanated from the tip of her wand, colliding with every pixie and freezing them in place wherever they were, suspending most of them in the air.

Reading the situation quickly, Harry jumped into action, grabbing pixies from wherever they were suspended and throwing them across the room to where Ron was also just picking up on what Hermione was doing. Hermione’s arm was shaking and sweat was beading on her forehead. They wouldn’t have much time left. Ron was just shoving the last pixie into the cage when Hermione rotated her wand clockwise three times and let her arm drop. A yelp from Ron indicated that the pixie he had been handling had come back to a state of consciousness and had bitten Ron. Harry turned back to see Ron punch a pixie in the face, sending it reeling into the cage with the rest of them, slamming the opening shut and locking it a moment later. Hermione was rubbing the blood back into her arm and splaying her hand where Harry could see deep red lines etched into her hand in the design of her wand, clearly from having held on too tightly.

Ron sighed in relief and looked quizzically at Hermione. “Thanks for saving us. Where’d you learn that spell?”

Hermione gave him a tired smile, a glint from her braces just entering his sight. “Forbidden section. It’s why I told Harry to get everyone out. If anyone asks, professor Lockhart saved us with his amazing spellwork.”

Harry frowned. “Won’t he ask about that?”

Hermione let out a cold laugh. “Not a chance,” she said grimly.

None of them said anything more as they sidled out of the classroom after having collected their things. If there was one thing positive to come out of all this it was that they had an extra fifteen minutes to get to their next lesson. “So that wasn’t as bad as it could have been,” Harry commented mildly.

Ron nodded. “Yeah. Hopefully that was all the excitement we’ll be getting today.”

Hermione let out a disbelieving snort. “Fat chance.”


	6. The Writing is on the Wall

The Halloween feast was better this year. First there was the fact that Ron wasn’t worrying throughout the entire meal about finding Hermione and secondly he didn’t feel quite so out of sorts as the previous year. Having spent a year getting used to Hogwarts had accustomed Harry to all the superficiality that Hogwarts put on to impress, and he was able to enjoy the little things.

“If I ever find out who decided that wizards have to have pumpkin in everything I’m probably going to murder them,” Harry said, eyeing most of the food distastefully. Normally the pumpkin theme wasn’t so bad, but Halloween was pumpkin themed.

“I think it’s something special. Having themed foods gives the holiday more of a taste instead of just the taste of sugar,” Hermione responded, ever the voice of reason.

Ron shrugged. “I’m not exactly a fan myself, but my mom makes a mean pumpkin pie.” He scratched his head absentmindedly. “Actually most of my mom’s food is pretty good.”

Harry groaned. “At least there’s meat. Do you have any idea what the traditional Halloween pudding is?”

Ron smirked. “You’re not going to like it.”

Harry groaned again. “I think I’m going to throw up if I see another pumpkin. All for ditching dessert and getting up to something while everyone’s eating?” he asked, raising his hand. Hermione eyed her mostly empty plate then Harry before raising her hand slowly. “Well Ron, I think you’re outvoted,” Harry said, standing. “Coming?”

Ron stared at his food morosely before sighing. “Yeah, just wait a minute,” he replied, tearing into the food on his plate in a religious fervour. “So far so good,” Ron mumbled as they exited the great hall.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hermione asked, turning her head slightly to speak to the redhead behind her.

“It’s just that last year we hadn’t even made it halfway through the feast before Quirrel came storming in shouting about a troll. Dessert’s probably just been served and still nothing’s happened. I think we can safely say that nothing’s going to happen this year.”

Almost as if the universe was just waiting for Ron to say something, Harry inhaled sharply, paling and feeling a sudden nausea overtake him as images flashed into his mind, images of dark stone halls and images of bodies, hundreds of dead bodies strewn everywhere. They were trying to tell him something, trying to warn him. . .

A sharp pain ran through both of Harry’s knees bringing him back to reality. He had fallen to the floor, his knees striking the cold stone floor hard.

“Oh bloody hell,” Ron muttered exasperated. “I just had to say something,” he groaned, palming his forehead before helping Harry up.

Harry was shivering, all of the blood had effectively drained from his face, leaving him looking sickly, the only trace of colour on his face was from a thin stream of blood running from his nose. “No time,” he sputtered, wrestling himself from the grip of his two friends. “Something’s happening,” he said dashing forward. Neither of his two friends had to think twice about following him.

Harry ran like he was being chased by a dragon, the flames just nipping at his feet as he moved recklessly, he didn’t bother pausing mid run to change direction, instead he pushed off the opposite wall from the direction he wanted to go, effectively keeping his momentum. His two friends were only barely able to keep up with him and when he suddenly stopped both of them almost collided with him, narrowly avoiding doing so by colliding with each other instead.

“Harry?” Hermione started, untangling herself from Ron who looked slightly dazed with an odd smile on his face. “What’s going to happen?”

Harry glanced up and down the hall confusedly scratching his head. “I could’ve sworn. . .” He trailed off after spotting Filch’s familiar.

“It’s Mrs. Norris,” Ron said, stating the obvious as he stood and brushed himself off. Frowning he eyed the cat. “She’s acting awful suspicious tonight. Do you think Filch is hiding just behind the corner? It’s not like we’re doing anything wrong.”

Harry shook his head, trying to clear it.

Hermione looked at Mrs. Norris as well, her face matching Ron’s in a suspicious frown. “There’s something wrong with her,” she mumbled to herself, moving closer to the cat. Mrs. Norris neither blinked or flinched at Hermione’s approach. Even as she reached out her hand the cat didn’t move. “Cold,” Hermione muttered, pulling her hand away from the cat and eyeing her fingers oddly. She looked up at Harry who had moved to stand on the other side of the cat, Harry wasn’t looking at Mrs. Norris however. Instead he was looking at the writing on the wall in what looked suspiciously like fresh blood.

“The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir beware,” Ron read out after catching up to Harry. “Well that’s not ominous.”

Harry’s head turned slowly to face Ron. “Ron.”

“Yeah,” Ron replied causally.

“Shut up.”

Ron sighed, looking away.

Harry stared at the writing on the wall. It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. Was it supposed to be an attack on him? He personally didn’t care much for Mrs. Norris and although he didn’t necessarily wish an untimely death on the cat he also wouldn’t be very sad to see her go. He had seen visions though, but they were different, nothing like what he saw before him, the visions were far worse. Nothing was fitting together as much as they should. Had something been brought into Hogwarts? Something dangerous? If so who? How? And to what end? Surely Hogwarts wasn’t the vault for any particularly important items.

The sound of footsteps shook Harry from his thoughts and glancing at his friends he suddenly realized how bad their situation looked. He wasn’t carrying his cloak of invisibility and they weren’t going to make it out of the hallway even if they ran. Hermione was standing now, having come to the same conclusion as Harry, Ron’s face only expressed disappointment. A few seconds later any choice of escape was taken away from them as the entirety of Hogwarts decided to stream into the hallway.

“We can’t let them contaminate the scene,” Harry muttered.

“Mate, this isn’t one of your muggle TV shows,” Ron said.

Harry sent him a glare and Ron slouched his shoulders. “Fine, I’ll go hold off the demon horde but I’m getting cloak privileges for a month,” Ron said before drawing his broken wand and shouting at the oncoming crowd, waving his wand like a madman.

Ignoring Ron’s shouting Harry turned back to the scene. “We need to find out as much as possible before the adults show up,” he said. “What can you tell me?” he directed to Hermione.

Hermione’s eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “Mrs. Norris isn’t bleeding. Whatever happened to her it’s not a physical injury. In fact it looks like she’s under a simple petrification jinx only. . .” she paused and shuddered. “She’s so cold. Although I suppose we could attribute the cold to all the water on the floor.”

Harry frowned, looking around until he spotted a large puddle that had gathered at the base of the wall right under the writing. “She’s not actually touching the water though, and she doesn’t look like she got wet.”

Hermione nodded her assent. “That’s the strange thing.”

Their conversation was cut off by Filch shoving Harry aside and kneeling down next to his familiar. He let out a loud sob and cradled Mrs. Norris’ body in his arms. His eyes darted around, falling on Harry and his expression morphed into anger. “You,” he growled, placing Mrs. Norris back down and standing up. “You killed her,” he screamed at Harry moving towards him and raising his fist to strike Harry.

In the next second Hermione was standing in between Filch and Harry, her wand directed at Filch’s face. “Don’t,” she warned quietly.

Filch stared down her wand, but and didn’t let up, but as soon as his eyes saw her enraged expression matching his own he lowered his fist slowly, taking a step back.

“What in Merlin’s name is going on here?” Professor McGonagall asked.

Harry groaned. Teachers always had the worst timing.

*

“Why is it always you three?” Professor McGonagall asked exasperated.

Hermione fidgeted in the chair that had been pulled up for her, Ron had only barely just sit down and Harry was still standing confrontationally. They were in her office again and for once it wasn’t for something they did. If only they could make their teacher believe that.

McGonagall leaned back in her chair with a tired expression. “Mr. Potter, please take a seat.”

Harry looked like he was going to fight her about it but eventually sat down, although he stayed at the edge of his seat with his body tensed. Seeing that she wasn’t going to get further with him, McGonagall pushed on. “What were you three doing outside of the feast before its end?”

Ron snorted. “We didn’t do it if that’s what you’re asking,” he said disinterestedly.

Professor McGonagall’s eyes narrowed. “No Mr. Weasely. I was asking why the three of you left the feast early.”

“Pumpkin,” Harry said suddenly. “I hate pumpkin.”

Both professor McGonagall and Ron looked like they’d been slapped across the face, the professor managed to control her expression however and her stern demeanour was back in an instant as if it had never left. “Well Mr. Potter, that is certainly a good reason to be leaving the Hallows Eve feast early, it is however an opinion which is better not shared to the general public.”

Harry quirked an eyebrow, trying to figure out if he’d accidentally insulted Merlin’s shorts or something. “You did ask.”

“So I did,” the professor said nodding.

“Can we go now?” Ron asked yawning loudly.

“One more thing,” the professor started. “Why, Ms Granger, were you levelling your wand at Mr. Filch?”

Harry expected Hermione to blush at the sudden attention as she usually did, but her face remained placid. “He was going to hurt Harry. Seeing us standing at the scene of the crime Mr. Filch came to the simplest conclusion possible. If you think about it Mr. Filch should be grateful that I prevented him from harming a student in this school and getting himself fired,” she said venomously.

Professor McGonagall seemed taken aback by her words before smiling. “Of course. Thank you for your explanation. You are free to go.”

Ron and Hermione stood quickly, leaving Harry sitting and glaring at the professor. “What is it? The Chamber of Secrets, what is it, professor?” he asked.

Professor McGonagall winced and avoided his gaze. “I’m not entirely sure,” she said finally. “Hogwarts holds many secrets and many chambers. The rub is finding a chamber that is also a secret. I would recommend asking your history professor about such things. As for myself I am not old enough to remember anything such as the Chamber of Secrets. Now if that’s all can you please send in Mr. Filch outside, it is time we had a conversation,” she finished dismissively, shooing them away.

Realising he wasn’t going to get any more than that, Harry stood and followed his friends outside. Hermione informed Filch that he could enter and he only flinched a little bit at the glare Hermione gave him. Being friends with her had made him forget how terrifying Hermione could be when she was mad. She watched Filch go, keeping her eyes fixed on him until he was out of sight. Sighing, Harry laid his hand down on her shoulder and shook his head. “Leave him be. He didn’t mean anything by it.”

Hermione frowned. “He tried to hurt you,” she argued.

Harry nodded. “I won’t deny that. But I don’t blame him.”

“If someone killed Scabbers I would also probably try and hurt whoever did it, for what it’s worth,” Ron added.

Hermione looked between them both before letting her muscles relax. “Yeah alright. McGonagall will sort him out anyway.”

Leaving the classroom they headed towards the Gryffindor common room. “So the chamber of secrets,” Harry started. “What do we know?”

“It’s old,” Ron said. “Old enough that professor transfiguration doesn’t know anything about it.”

Hermione scoffed. “She was obviously lying. Besides I doubt she’s older than forty years old.”

Ron looked slightly exasperated. “Yeah, she was for sure lying. But she did it in the adult way of lying while also telling you everything you need to know.”

Harry nodded. “She told us to ask our history professor, so that’s where we’ll be going. I don’t suppose you’ve read much about it, Hermione?”

Hermione bit her lip. “Maybe. It sounds familiar. It might have been in Hogwarts a History but if it was it was barely a side note.”

Harry frowned. “Alright, so let’s forget about the chamber angle for now. What do we know about what happened to Mrs. Norris? Where did the blood come from?”

“It wasn’t blood,” Ron said quickly.

Two heads turned to face him. “How do you know that exactly?” Hermione asked.

Ron shrugged. “I tasted it.”

Two jaws dropped open simultaneously. “What were you thinking? It could have been poisoned. It could have been what happened to Mrs. Norris,” Hermione said slightly louder than was necessary, each word making Ron flinch slightly more than before.

Raising his hands in defence, Ron peeked out at her from behind them. “Relax. I didn’t swallow it or anything. Besides Mrs. Norris couldn’t have reached that high up on the wall. Besides her position was completely different than it should have been if it was poison.”

Hermione grumbled something under her breath but didn’t respond.

“Seriously guys, details,” Harry said, bringing them back to attention.

“Well Mrs Norris isn’t dead,” Ron said. “Know anything that paralyses creatures without killing them?” he directed to Hermione.

Shaking her head she cleared her throat. “There are a few things that I could think of off the top of my head, but all of them would need an entry wound or would at least leave the creature’s body relaxed. Mrs. Norris felt more like she had been frozen than paralysed and there’s nothing that can do that without killing the creature. The blood temperature would drop too low for the creature to continue living. But Madame Pomfrey said Mrs. Norris was still fully functional only that she couldn’t move. Apparently she’s also fully conscious assuming she isn’t asleep. To be able to do such a thing is. . .” she trailed off looking for the right word.

“Terrifying?” Harry suggested.

Hermione shook her head. “Groundbreaking. Just think of the magical potential if such a thing was figured out. A spell that directly affect the nervous system, controlling certain aspects while leaving others as is would be simply incredible. I would assume it was a potion but Madame Pomfrey also mentioned that the contents of Mrs. Norris’ stomach didn’t hold much more than the food Filch gives her”

As they reached the entrance to the common room, both Ron and Harry turned to face her, their lips pulled into grimaces. “Better that you don’t share that opinion with anyone if you don’t want them thinking that you did this,” Ron suggested.

Hermione smirked slightly but nodded, pushing past them and giving the code to the portrait that guarded their house depicting a fat lady.

“Speaking of which, what was that about not sharing my dislike about pumpkin,” Harry said as the portrait swing open to reveal the entrance to their common room.

“You don’t like pumpkin?” asked the fat lady in the guardian portrait. “What’s wrong with you?”

**Author's Note:**

> A new book a new day. Here are the promised details to the changes that I’ve already visualised that won’t spoil the rest of the plot that isn’t known, of which I hope there is a lot.  
> Magic: There are three types of magic, Active, Passive and Constant.  
> Active magic includes all forms of spells that have an immediate and temporary effect that requires the constant involvement of the caster.  
> Passive magic boils down to how wizards and witches interact with their surroundings. Besides for smaller things, the only passive magics that are commonly needed are Familiars and Sight. Sight is the ability to look past the normal and a Familiar is a creature that forms a mental connection with its owner, being able to understand them and being forced to do their commands. Certain creatures are harder to control than others.  
> Finally Constant magic includes runes and potions, both which don’t necessarily last forever, but due to certain combinations, the potion or rune will last even after the maker has died.  
> The next change which I’m sure has been very prominent is the age wizards start school. Having been shoved forward by two years, wizards begin school at the age of thirteen, just after puberty has started making their abilities manifest. Most wizards will attend either a normal muggle school until their first year at Hogwarts or will at least be homeschooled. That association or lack of with muggle society ultimately decided whether said wizards and witches are blood traitors or not. The sixth and seventh year of Hogwarts are therefore like college and are optional. In the same vein, the age of being able to do magic outside of school is in fact when a wizard hits eighteen, this being in their fifth year. Apparition is still only learned in sixth year.  
> Butterbeer is allowed for sixteen year olds, but if you know where to go they’ll sell to fifteen year olds and sometimes even fourteen year olds. Firewhiskey is allowed at eighteen.  
> Pureblood is a real thing, not just a racist issue. People with purer blood tend to be better at all forms of magic, but often lazier. In this regard, Hermione is a freak among the Muggleborns by being better than most wizards her age.  
> Clothing is warded for protection and movement, while wearing a wizard’s robes one would find themselves able to move faster, feeling lighter in general and the fabric would most likely be able to stop a bullet and break a bad fall. Of course, its not foolproof (see Neville, book 1).  
> Magic is charmed to secrecy, due to reasons that will be spoken of later, as such, it’s very difficult to speak to muggles about magic, especially if they don’t know about it and writing anything to do with magic on paper with pen will disappear. Only writing implements from a living creature do not bear the charm’s effect.  
> Ghosts aren't nearly as common as in JKR's version. Only truly traumatic events make ghosts of people and most won't reveal themselves unless something gives them reason to. As such most of the filler characters don't exist anymore, so for anyone that's going to miss the deathday parties or anything, well I doubt anyone misses those, so yeah, moving on.  
> Lastly, and I know some people will have problems with this but it bears mentioning: Dumbledore and Grindelwald aren’t homosexual. Or maybe they are, I have no idea, but their relationship is nothing more than friendship. I’m not trying to write a romance story and just like in the original story romance was just a side plot to make things more interesting, I don’t intend to bring it in.  
> There’s probably a bunch of stuff that I’m forgetting, but not so important. If anyone has any question just ask and I’ll probably answer them in the next chapter if it doesn’t spoil anything.


End file.
